


A Weird Fucking Day

by Paigers



Series: Lab Partners [2]
Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Martin POV, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paigers/pseuds/Paigers
Summary: On the day some asshole bully alters the casting list for the school play to have slurs, Martin Addison has a weird conversation with Ms. Albright.And then a weirder one with Bram Greenfeld.(This a companion to my fic, Lab Partners, but it's not necessary to read that first.)(Canon Compliant).





	A Weird Fucking Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bansheee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bansheee/gifts).



> Because you had a rough day, Julie <3
> 
>  
> 
> (Note: this work contains a few instances of a gay slur, but only as a direct reference to events in the book.)

Look, Marty wishes that he could say that he isn’t feeling really fucking sorry for himself as he’s taking off his stage makeup.

It’s Spier who has the right to complain, after all. He’s the gay one. Calling a gay guy a fag is a far worse offense than calling a straight guy a fag. Not that either is great.

(And obviously, it’s Marty’s own fault that anyone knows Spier is gay in the first place.)

But still.

A couple hours ago, Ms. Albright had called him and Spier into her office right before their second show and told them that someone had “altered” the cast list. They had crossed out some letter and made it look like he was playing “Fag” and Spier was playing “Fag’s Boy.”

Clever, no?

No.

And it would be really great if Marty’s first thought had been “Oh, wow, look what I’ve done, poor Simon.”

But it wasn’t. It was something more along the line of “Oh fuck, what if people think I’m actually gay?”

He’s not proud of it, okay?

He’s also not proud that he’s still thinking about it now, taking off his stage makeup, alone in the boys’ dressing room. Pretty much everyone else has already gone.

So he’s actually pretty glad when a knock interrupts his self pity.

“Come in,” Marty says.

It’s Ms. Albright. The “boys” and “girls” thing isn’t really enforced in the theater dressing rooms. Everyone goes everywhere.

“Hey Marty,” she said, smiling at him. “Cal said you were still back here right before he left. Do you mind if we talk for a minute again in my office when you’re all done there?”

“Yeah,” Marty says, but he’s panicking.

She knows. Spier told her. Oh, fuck, she knows, she knows, she knows.

He’s going to be in so much trouble.

When he finishes wiping his face off, he walks to her office like he’s walking to his execution: really slowly.

“Have a seat,” she says when he passes through her open doorway. He does.

She’s still smiling a little bit. She looks exhausted, though. She’s tied up her long, bright, red hair in a messy ponytail, and there are circles under her eyes.

“I just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay,” she says.

“With me?” Marty asks. He feels sorry for himself, sure, but he isn’t enough of an idiot to have really thought that anyone else might.

“Yes,” Ms. Albright says. “Your name was on that paper too. And…and Simon left too quickly after the play ended for me to say anything else to him.”

“Oh,” Marty says. “I’m fine. I mean, it sucks. But I’m not the one who…”

“Right,” Ms. Albright says. “I know.” She pauses. “You and Simon are friends, right?”

Oh, Jesus. What a fucking question.

“Kind of,” he settles on. “I guess.”

“Is he...okay? I couldn’t really get a read on him earlier.” She bites her lip, probably worried she’s crossing some teacher-student boundary or something.

She sounds genuinely concerned, but that doesn’t really surprise him.

“I don’t – we didn’t really talk about it,” he says, avoiding her eyes. “Do you guys know who did it?”

Change the fucking subject.

“Oh no,” she says. “And I doubt we’ll find out. But from what we can tell, it was probably only on the bulletin board like that for a few minutes.”

“Oh,” he says, a bit surprised. “That’s good.”

“Yes, it is,” she says, then frowns. She seems to be conflicted about whether to continue, but she does. “A couple of boys in your class saw it as they were about to head into the theater, apparently, and went and told Mr. Wilson about it. That’s how we found out.”

Mr. Wilson was an English teacher whose classroom was the closest to the theater.

“Oh,” Marty says. “That was nice of them. Who was it?”

She pauses again.

“I probably am technically not supposed to talk to you about this,” she says, frowning again. “But, oh well. You’re a good, responsible kid, Marty.”

Jesus, why does she have to say something like that?

Ms. Albright looks down at a post-it note in the corner of her desk. “Their names are Garrett Laughlin and Bram Greenfeld. I don’t know them.”

“Oh,” Marty says, kind of shocked, actually. “I know them. Well, not really. Greenfeld’s my lab partner. I guess we talk sometimes. But they’re varsity soccer players, so we don’t really hang around the same people.”

“Yes,” Ms. Albright says. “That’s what Mr. Wilson told me, when we got a minute to talk about it during the play. That they’re athletes. Apparently, they actually took down the cast list themselves. When Cal went out to get it, it was already gone.”

“Oh,” Marty says. “I…I don’t know why that surprises me, actually. I don’t even know them, really. And actually, Greenfeld seems cool enough. He’s helping me get through AP Chem, anyway.”

“Can I tell you something?” Ms. Albright asks. “It surprised me to too, when Mr. Wilson told me that all he knew about them was that they played varsity soccer. It wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Me either,” Marty says.

“Yes,” Ms. Albright says, her frown deepening. She purses her lips. “And that’s not fair, is it? It’s really, really not fair. I don’t know a thing about these boys. Why on earth should I be surprised that a couple of athletes would do something like that?”

“Um,” Marty says.

It was really, really weird to be talking to a teacher like this. Like a real person.

“Sorry,” she says, looking a little sheepish. “I just got really frustrated at myself. For being surprised. I’m a teacher. I should be better than that, than being surprised that a couple of athletes would help out a gay student.”

“Oh,” Marty says. “Yeah. You’re only human, though. But, I mean, you’re right. It’s not fair to them, I guess.”

He is very uncomfortable.

“It’s…it’s incredible the way we let the labels we assign to people influence our impression of them, isn’t it?” she asks.

“I guess,” he says, still feeling really awkward.

“I wonder how many students passed by that casting list and didn’t do anything about it,” she continues. “And yet a couple of jocks walked by and acted immediately. I learned a lesson today. And I didn’t really think I had many left to learn. Not ones like that.”

“Right. Um – ”

“You can leave, Marty,” she laughs. “I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. It was just on my brain, and you were right here in front of me.”

He gets up before she can change her mind.

“I do mean it, though,” she says as he’s walking out the door. “It might not seem like such a big deal, but it’s those little acts of kindness and compassion that really make all the difference, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says, though he’s not entirely sure that he does. “Have a good weekend, Ms. Albright.”

“You too, Marty.”

**

A weird coincidence: as he’s walking through the English hallway, Bram Greenfeld comes out of the boys’ bathroom. Funny, he’d have thought the whole place would be deserted. School’s been out for like thirty minutes. Maybe more.

“Hey,” Marty says.

Greenfeld looks up. “Hey Marty,” he says, his voice even quieter than usual.

“What are you still doing here?” Marty asks, walking closer to him.

His eyes look a little red, actually. He must see Marty staring at him because he wipes at them almost unconsciously.

Holy shit, has he been crying? Great. Marty’s had to deal with enough random outbursts of emotion today.

“I, um, I forgot I don’t have soccer practice today,” Bram says, as they begin walking toward building’s exit. It would be weird not to, since they’re both clearly going toward the parking lot. “I went to the locker room and got all dressed up, and, then…then I was like, oh yeah, it’s Friday.”

And then he came all the back way to the English hallway to use the bathroom? Okay. Sure.

But Marty doesn’t pry. They don’t know each other like that.

Ms. Albright had been right, though. He had been unreasonably surprised to hear that his varsity-athlete lab partner had been the one to tell about the cast list. And it _had_ been a good thing to do.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly, after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Thanks for, um, for taking that cast list off the bulletin board. Ms. Albright told me a couple minutes ago, That was cool of you.”

Bram looks at him, and his eyes narrow a bit. He almost looks angry for a minute. “Yeah,” he says. “I ripped a paper off of a thumb tack and walked thirty feet to Mr. Wilson’ class. I’m pretty damn heroic.” He snorts a little bit.

“Uh.”

“Sorry,” Bram says quickly, his face clearing. “I’m really sorry, Marty. That wasn’t directed at you. At all. I’m just…I’m in kind of a weird place right now. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

“It’s fine,” Marty says. He had noticed Greenfeld seemed a little down in Chem lately.  And he looks downright upset right now. He thinks about what Ms. Albright had been saying about little acts of kindness.

 Jesus, he really doesn’t want to, but, “Is, uh, everything okay, Bram?”

“It’s…fine,” Bram says. “I’m just -- just -- like I said, things are weird for me right now.”

“Right, well,” Marty says. “I’m sorry. That sucks. My life’s kind of shitty right now too. It’s probably my fault, though.”

“Same,” Bram says, smirking a little bitterly. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Girl problems?” Marty asks, trying to lighten the mood.

Bram frowns a little again. “No,” he says. “No. Definitely not.”

“Oh,” Marty says, really fucking relieved they’ve left the school building and almost reached the parking lot.

“Oh hey,” Bram says, as they’re about to part ways. “The play was really funny. Sorry. I should’ve said that to begin with. You were great.”

“Thanks,” Marty says. “And for the record, it _was_ a good thing that you and Laughlin did, with the cast list. I’m sure Spier would appreciate it, if he knew.”

Bram looks down. “Is Simon -- did he seem all right?”

“Oh,” Marty says. “I think so? He didn’t seem too upset. Mostly just annoyed, but…we didn’t really talk about it.”

Bram nods, seeming to see something very interesting on the pavement he's staring at.

“I’ll see you later, Marty,” Bram says.

“Later, man.”

Bram goes right. Marty goes left.

What a weird fucking guy.

What a weird fucking day.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hi on Tumblr!](http://paigey-waigey.tumblr.com)


End file.
